


Deep Face Nine

by Portponky



Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Conspiracy, Crack, M/M, Medical Procedures, Tailoring
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-27
Updated: 2014-07-27
Packaged: 2018-02-10 14:21:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,496
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2028312
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Portponky/pseuds/Portponky
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bashir needs Garak for O'Brien's balls. I don't know why I wrote this and you should really question yourself if you want to read it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Deep Face Nine

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Alyeen1](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alyeen1/gifts).



Jonathan no wait Julian Bashir ran across the pomegranite and burst in to Garak's basically 'The Gap' sort of store at about warp seven point twelve. He huffed and puffed and hufflepuffed and then he saw the very Cardassassian man he wanted, no, needed to speak with- Elim "Fist in the Night" Garak. He stood there squintingly in his regular skintight silver jumpsuit that all Cardashians wear all the time.

"Ah, the good Doctor, how I can please you today? Perhaps some pantaloons?"

Julian was so awkward he was almost rotating. "Not today, thank you, actually I have a dilemma and I really need your help and advice and perhaps you could discuss this over a Kleskian Cheese Platter down at Quark's, just you and me?"

Garak stood and leaned without blinking even once, a skill that he often employed to impress people at gatherings. "No need to air your dirty laundry in public, I have a freshly prepared Kleskian Cheese Platter right here," his eyes twinkled, knowingly and Julian truly wondered if he knew.

"It all started just one hour ago," said Julian, whilst chomping down on Kleskian Cheddar, "when that horrid old fart Cake O'Brien wandered in and asked me in a shrill tone about having Miles in for castration. I would never normally agree, but she gave me her standard look of death and I'm pretty sure if I don't do it she'll push me in the waste disposal flute and sell my meat." His face told a billion tales.

On hearing this, Garak continued to lean, pretending he was a tall man in a very short room. He had been working on a mannerism recently and he thought it might be the perfect time to try it out. He had been practising placing a pause between when he started talking and when he started speaking, to create an air of mysterious wisdom. He laid that trick on the deck, knowing that Julian was a captive audience.

Garak opened his eyes, face and mouth and raised his pointing finger. He lingered on the moment for a few seconds until Julian whimpered slightly with amazement, then he unged "It seems that, for the sake of Mr. Chief O'Brien's health and well-being, we must take informed and decisive action for the better. If we were to make just the slightest of adjustments, we could unstitch Miles and Cake O'Brien's relationship enough that they would both be, shall we say, more or less, so to speak, better off." Also, Garak now put his finger away.

Julian scrambled in further and bought in to the plan completely, and Garak was delighted that his mannerism had paid off although he slightly doubted Julian's status as an impartial judge of social norms, especially as Julian was rotating. They discussed the details of the plan which are a secret because it will spoil the next bit if you know what's going to happen.

\---

The next bit.

Miles O'Brien staggered in to the medical bay. He'd shafted his elbow playing dimensional lacrosse on the Holodeck, because what he didn't know is that someone had left an anonymous tip with Odo that Quark was running a highly illegal Kleskian Cheese rackeetering ring, and Quark had been so distracted that he hadn't noticed the very same someone (Garak, btw) rebooting the Holodeck in dangerous mode. O'Brien was never suspicious of elbow injuries.

Bashit had told all the medical nurses and interns to fuck off so he was there to fix O'Brien. This was also part of the plan. He used his energy positron medical beamer in unshaft mode to reboot O'Brien's elbow in to fixed mode. Miles checked his elbow by performing slow motion arm waggles in the air, and commented that his elbow was far better. As he was about to saunter out the door, Julian cockblocked him.

"Miles, it's time for your monthly Star Fleet medical. You need a full checkup."

O'Brien was brooding and suspicious, assuming the worst. "What are you talking about? I had a full medical two days ago from Nurse Lightsabre. It should be right there in the log file, I'm in fantaaaastic health."

Julian had to think fast and keep the ruse erect. "There's nothing here on this space ipad about that," he put on his best gentle eyes, "and the fact that you said that is a sign of early onset dementia. I'm going to do a full everything scan. Step over here and undress."

O'Brien agreed, his longing dedication to duty overwhelming his intense fear of being part of a shadowy conspiracy. Julian inspected every inch of flesh on the inside and outside of O'Brien's body, and subjected him to every scan, beam, phase, zone and field they had in medical bay. "This isn't necessary," Miles bemoaned, "I'm in perfect health. Can I go now? I have work to do."

Julian took off his gentle eyes and put on his caring eyes, with the serious eyebrows mod. "You are healthy, yes, that's true. The computer says you're a total fitty with a hot bod. It's just..."

O'Brien's was no stranger to terrible, awful, bad news. "What is it? Am I... dying?"

"No, no," bashired Julian, "a slight anomaly showed up on the positronic neural brain scan. It's nothing serious. It just says that you are now homosexual."

O'Brien started to talk and then paused with overwhelming confusion and crippling doubt, and then just as Julian was whimpering in amazement, he said "So I'm... gay? Just like that?"

Julian nodded. Miles didn't know how to take it, but there was no reason to doubt the legitimacy of a top Star Fleet medical officer. "I guess... I guess I better go home and tell Cake O'Brien the news. I think... I think I'll have to get a divorce. Strange, it almost seems like a relief, but I guess that's just the gay in me talking. And you're sure it says that's I'm gay?"

"Oh, totally, like one hundred and three percent, lol," said Julian, giving him a thumbs up.

Miles left the medical bay bewildered and very self conscious. This was all part of the plan. Julian rushed at full donkey pace over to the shop place where Garak works. Garak already had Kleskian Cheese Champagne ready and closed the shop and took Julian through to the back. He released a beaming toothish grin all the way from his face in to Julian's eyes, and then through his eyes in to his brain where he perceived it.

"Aren't we celibating a bit early?" said Julian, "we don't know if this plan will even work."

"Ah, my dear confused boy. I only told you the part of the plan that you had to do. This plan had so many layers, like a winter frock. Whilst you were distracting and reorienting our dear friend Miles, I took the liberty of meeting Cake O'Brien in the number twenty two airlock on B-deck, where after a minor altercation, Cake was flushed out in to space. She will not be missed."

Julian was electric shocked. "Probably not! But Garak, you can't just go around murdering people! What the hell were you thinking?"

Garak knew how to seize control and top everyone in a situation like this. He put on his crazy angry face and yelled, "Don't think I'm the bad guy because I know how to get results. I did what needed to be done, what you were not prepared to face up to. Yes, she's dead, but who cares. Miles? No chance, he's gay now. Odo? Sisko? They won't give a shit, it's not uncommon in discussions of Cake O'Brien to hear people note that the wormhole is only the second biggest hole in this quadrant. Oh, sure, there'll be a missing person investigation but there's no leads, no evidence, it'll languish in investigative hell and in a year it'll be forgotten about, just another log file in the computer that nobody will ever read. I did this for you, Julian, I did it because I value your friendship. Now fuck me raw, you prince."

Wincing and mincing, Julian pieced the pieces together and began to realise the truth of the matter. Garak was right, he was always right, and his hair was also fabulous. Julian knew that it was time for his sex, so he fumbled at his buttons but Garak helped by ripping his uniform off and reassured him that if it were damaged, he could definitely sew the buttons back on. "Do me," Garak tailored.

Julian leaned over him and rummed his sort of ridgey bits. He readied his genetically enchanced fleshcock, and Garak grabbed it firmly and got it ready in the sort of position where it would enter in to Garak's cloaca or whatever. Julian was so nervous and overwhelmed by Garak's manipulative and unsurprisingly forward behaviour that he was prepared to do anything. "I guess tonight," said Garak, "you'll be coming in to fashion."


End file.
